


Not How I Imagined You Tied Up

by Batsymomma11



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Needs a Hug, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Protective Diana, Slow Burn, Wonderbat, bound and gagged, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: Diana finds Bruce in a compromising position. Fluff and feels ensue.





	Not How I Imagined You Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own DC or its characters. I do own this plot. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!!

               Diana crept down the hallway, bare feet padding on the cool metal with sharp angry staccatos. She’d been listening to the muffled thumping all night and had reached her threshold. She didn’t care if the man was working on some secret project in his quarters or even if it was something that meant saving lives. Not when it was three in the morning and she needed her sleep. Not when this place was currently her home and not just a convenient hotel for the night.

                After all, she’d given him leeway. She’d been patient. The thumping had started at midnight and it was three. She’d given Bruce three hours to shut the hell up and go to bed. He’d not taken her consideration seriously. Which meant she was going to have to get ugly.

                 The closer she got to the noise, consequently Bruce’s door, the louder the thudding got. And the more Diana considered that she might be interrupting something a bit more personal than she wanted to. She slowed, considering how awful it might be to catch Bruce in the middle of some sexually deviant act and very nearly turned around. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know that he had sex. She was aware of it. She and Bruce had tension between them that was unresolved but neither of them had done anything about it. He wasn’t looking for serious and had made his sentiments on dating within the league well known. Diana respected that.

                But that didn’t mean she wanted to come face first with his other conquests. Particularly when they’d been at it for three hours. Was that even humanly possible?

                No.

                She shook herself. Of course, not. Bruce was just a man. He wasn’t a superhuman sex God. Even though she occasionally wondered with all the rumors circulating around Bruce Wayne and his bedroom prowess.

               Which was why it was more likely that Bruce was working on something instead and had gotten himself wrapped up in it, forgetting about the noise level after midnight. Yes, that was more likely.

                Just outside of Bruce’s room, Diana paused. The thumping had stopped, and silence echoed down the corridors making her feel like perhaps she’d imagined it. She was doing far too much second-guessing for her taste tonight. Then it started up again and it sounded just a tad more feverish. The frequency increased, and the thumping had a distinct metal ring to it.

                Diana took a deep breath, prepared herself to see something maybe she shouldn’t see, then opened the door.

                What she found stopped her dead in her tracks.

                Bruce was lying face down on the floor, stripped to his black thermals, arms tied behind his back, ankles tied over each other. He lifted his head when she entered, and they stared at each other for a long breathless moment, then Diana forced her numb legs to move and she kneeled at his head. He immediately put his head back down and huffed out a strained breath through his nose.

                He was gagged with a handkerchief, and it was tied painfully tight in his mouth, cutting into his cheeks and digging red marks in the back of his neck. Diana picked at the knot until it gave under her fingers then slowly pulled it out. Bruce obliged by picking his head up again as the gag left his lips but then did something that looked suspiciously like a retch. His throat worked around an invisible object and she could see him struggling to swallow. It was then she noticed that whoever had bound him had also stuffed another piece of fabric in his mouth. It was pushed in deep and he couldn’t spit it out on his own.

                The reality of finding Bruce like this in his own bedroom was unsettling.

                Keeping her eyes on his, Diana grabbed the corner of the rag and delicately pulled, watching as Bruce choked around the fabric a few more times on its exit. When it was out, he took in long ragged breaths and pressed his forehead back to the floor, panting like he’d been suffocating. She supposed he might have been, with how far that rag had been stuffed.

                “What happened to you Bruce?” Diana asked carefully, trying to ignore how her belly dipped seeing how raw and bloody his wrists were when she removed the rope. He lay perfectly still when she crawled to his ankles and did the same. There was something utterly vulnerable about finding the man’s bare feet fragile and scraped. He’d ripped all the skin off his ankles too. One toenail was bloody from bashing his feet over and over on the metal. He’d been trying to get someone’s attention for hours.

                Diana felt a little sick.  

                “Bruce? Talk to me. Who did this to you?”

                He was still panting and not answering. Diana’s concern escalated to fear. Rolling him, she brushed back the sweaty hair that clung to his forehead and he blinked up at her with wide glossy eyes. His pupils were pinpricks. Drugged. Of course. That would explain why he’d not managed to get out of the bindings without help. A Batman on top of his game would have figured out how to untangle himself easily. But drugged—perhaps not. The ropes had been tight. Very tight. And the gag, had seemed vengeful. Whoever had done this to him had been angry with him.

                They had taken Bruce completely by surprise.

                “Can you tell me anything?” Diana said again, pressing her chilled palms to his feverish cheeks. He blinked several times, like he was trying to collect himself but only managed a soft groan. His lips didn’t look like they wanted to work yet. Drool slipped messily down his chin to soak his shirtfront making it clear he wasn’t going to be talking anytime soon. It took everything in her not to react. Not to show how upset she was at finding him like this. Bruce wouldn’t appreciate it, if she lost her wits. He would want her to think clearly because he couldn’t at present. Whoever had done this had infiltrated the Watchtower’s security and could be a real threat. She needed to activate the alarm system and get the founders in.

                She needed to call Clark.

                Diana left Bruce lying on the floor for only minute. But she felt guilty when she returned, and he curled into her like she’d been gone forever. He was starting to mumble something to her, like he was trying to relay something important, but it sounded like gibberish. Still, she hummed in response. She ran her hands through his hair, helping him to sit up so he could lean against her shoulder, rather than lie flat. He seemed to appreciate it, because he sighed deeply and leaned limply into her. He breathed warm damp air on her neck and down her shirt. He clumsily grasped onto her hand and squeezed several times.

                It all had the effect of bringing ridiculous tears to her eyes. Because this was Bruce. And Bruce would never do any of those things. He was so rigid and structured. So careful with how much emotion he showed, let alone how much affection he offered to even his closest friends. He griped about hugging Clark. He double griped about Diana doing the same. He spurned Dick kissing his cheek for God’s sake. The man didn’t cuddle or lean into other people or mumble in between little hiccups of breath.

                And he certainly didn’t let himself be taken unawares. Whoever had done this was going to pay. And perhaps in blood.             

                “Bruce, everyone will be here shortly. We need to get you up. Do you want a sweater? Are you cold?”

                He nodded, swiping the back of a hand over his mouth which still looked like it was having trouble leaking. He didn’t seem aware of everything yet, but she could see he was struggling to bring himself back. He was still fuzzily blinking around the room, swaying with every change in posture.

                Diana roughly got him to his feet and thanked her Amazonian strength when he put all his weight on her arm. A normal woman would not have been so fortunate. She put him down unceremoniously on the mattress then dug around in his dresser for a sweatshirt. Finding it, Diana forced his hands through the holes, and resisted the urge, just barely, to press a kiss to his hair.

                With his face like that, he looked lost. And young. Very young.

                Only the graying hair at his temples saved him from looking like a bewildered child who’d gotten lost at the grocery store.

                “Diana,” J’onn stepped into Bruce’s room and immediately went to the bed to address Bruce, “What can you tell me?”

                “Nothing really. I found him tied up. Obviously, he’s drugged. I don’t know what with. He can’t seem to talk. Or move well.”

                “I see,” J’onn squinted at Bruce, “Pupils are nonreactive and pinpoint. I will need to take blood and get him to the infirmary. Would you like to accompany us?”

                “Of course.”

                J’onn didn’t need help carrying Bruce to the infirmary. But he seemed to understand that Diana was a little shaken by the turn of events and would prefer to remain close. It was unspoken that she be the one to carry Bruce. She put his arms around her neck and lifted him easily into a bridal hold. If it had been any other time, Bruce would have absolutely spurned everything about the hold. Most especially because it would be Diana doing it. He hated being carried. By anyone.

                Still, Diana couldn’t help but to enjoy the simple closeness it afforded when he struggled to keep his arms hooked around her neck and kept slipping. When he couldn’t keep his head up, so he let it rest on her shoulder and invariably ended up staring at her with that lost puppy dog glint to his eyes. Her heart was a tangled mess by the time they got to the infirmary and she very nearly refused to put him down.

                Once Bruce was seated on the gurney, she stepped back and made her rubbery legs move.

                “I need to speak with Clark.”

                J’onn looked over a shoulder but was already prepping a blood sample kit. “Yes. I know.”

                “Will you be alright with him?”

                J’onn’s expression was neutral and soft. “Of course. He’s hardly violent at present. Whatever they gave him has made him fairly inert.”

                “Yes, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

                She didn’t allow herself to linger. Or to look back and worry. But she wanted to.

 

                Bruce recovered almost completely within an hour of being found. He was given Narcan to counteract the drugs he’d been given, oxygen, and an IV. When he managed to gain the ability to speak again and was able to start griping, he of course did. Keeping Bruce grounded for any length of time was a chore, let alone for what she could hear J’onn attempting.

                The Batman did not ever, ever stay overnight in the infirmary unless he was deathly ill and could not say otherwise.

                Diana could hear him arguing with J’onn even before she got to the room. It was comforting to hear his familiar lilting bellow. To hear the rumble of his voice cursing and growling like a cat who’d been forced to bathe.

                “You look better.”

                Bruce’s eyes flicked to her entrance at the door and held briefly. Then they were back on J’onn with a menacing glint. “I am better.”

                “I’ve told Bruce that I’d like to keep him here overnight to monitor any side effects of the drugs he was given. Particularly as we’re not altogether certain.”

                “And I’ve told J’onn that’s not going to happen. I need to get back to the manor. Immediately.”

                “Why?” Diana lifted her chin, studying Bruce with a critical eye. His color looked good. And his eyes were bright and reactive again. No one would be the wiser, that he’d been a drooling drugged out mess only a couple of hours previous.

                “They may not be safe.”

                “Clark has already alerted Alfred to the situation.”

                “He doesn’t—”

                Diana sighed, “We know it was Talia. She didn’t bother deleting the security footage from the mainframe.”

                Bruce looked down at this lap, but his shoulders had gone tight as a bow. “I see.”

                “What happened?”

                “She’s Talia. She doesn’t need a reason, does she?”

                Diana shrugged, “She’s never attacked for no reason before. Why were you concerned about getting home?”

                Steel gray eyes narrowed on Diana’s blue and she merely lifted her chin in response. His brand of intimidation had never worked on her before. And it wouldn’t now. The longer they sat silent, the higher Diana’s right brow rose. She’d wait him out and he knew it.

                Finally, Bruce sighed, flexing his jaw, “She came for Damian.”

                “For Damian?”  

                “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” he snapped, then scrubbed both hands over his face, “I’m sorry. It’s just—its been a long night. We fought about it, I told her she couldn’t have him, that his home was with me now and she ambushed me. I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting it. She’s Talia—she’s—” he swallowed thickly, anger making his movements jerky, “She’s lethal and cunning. She never does anything halfway.”

                “Clark is still with them. He won’t let her take him.”

                Bruce looked up, hard ice like flint in his sharp gaze, “No. She won’t take him. I still need to get home.”

                “I understand.”

                He nodded, pushing off the table, “Good, then we should go.”

                “After you get some sleep.”

                “What?”

                Diana shrugged, sharing a long look with J’onn as she moved to Bruce’s side. He wouldn’t want any help getting back to his room. But she would accompany him anyways. To be sure he obeyed, of course. Bruce wasn’t one to follow orders of any kind either.

                “You heard me Bruce. J’onn is right. We don’t know what you were drugged with. Clark is watching over everyone and you need some rest. I’ll get you home within twelve hours.”

                “Diana…”

                “Bruce, I’m not changing my mind. You know you can’t get past me.”

                They stared at one another. J’onn shifted and then Bruce gave in.

                His mouth thinned into a white line, “Fine. Let’s go then.”               

                She took him back to his room, the same she’d found him in not that long ago and tried to ignore how surreal it felt to return with a completely unruffled Bruce. Sure, he had circles under his eyes and was looking faintly more ragged than usual. But he was whole. He was fine.

                Diana said nothing when he stomped over to his mattress and sat down with a huff. She said nothing still when he flopped down on his back with a childish indignation that would put even toddlers to shame.

                But when she moved to leave, he surprised her.

                “Thank you, Diana.”

                She hesitated, eyes skating over his frame from head to toe. Human. Fragile. Breakable. But perfect. So utterly perfect. “You’re welcome Bruce.”

                He rolled to a side, pillowing his head on his elbow, looking absurdly handsome, “I’m sorry.”

                She frowned, “For what?”

                His eyes looked luminous in the dim cabin lighting. Soft and welcoming. It took every bit of her effort not to approach the bed and drop down to kiss him right then. To run her fingers back through his hair and let herself soak him up. But Bruce wouldn’t welcome that, and he’d made that clear. He didn’t want to complicate their relationship any further than it already was. Like gravity, neither one of them seemed capable of fully following all the rules.

                Despite Bruce’s insistence on laying them down, over and over.

                “For waking you up in the middle of the night. Drooling all over your shirt. Frightening you.”

                She took a step nearer, watched his face for any signs of unwelcome and then kept drawing nearer until she sat on the edge of the bed and gave into the urge to touch his brow. Bruce blinked up at her, but made no moves to disengage. So, Diana risked a little and she smoothed the lines between those dark brows with her thumb, silently pressing away the worry and the fatigue until he softened and sighed into her touch.

                “It wasn’t how I imagined you tied up—I’ll give you that.”

                He snorted, eyes opening to tired slits, “You’ve imagined me tied up?”

                She shrugged, “Maybe. Once or twice.”

                “I’m glad it was you who found me then.”

                Diana smiled, still tracing patterns on his face, enjoying the rasp of whiskers on her fingertips. Bruce’s breathing was slowing to a crawl.

                “Sleep Bruce.”

                “Hmmm.”

                Diana waited till he fell asleep, then she indulged herself and carefully laid down next to him to catch a few more hours of rest. When Bruce grumbled unintelligibly then slung an arm over her middle, she couldn’t help but smile and snuggle closer. He would forgive her impertinence.  


End file.
